


Butterfly Effect

by Rain1701



Category: Dishonored
Genre: Gen, Kid!Fic, Pre-Canon, adopted!corvo, big brother!daud, competition for Royal Protector, corvo's marked from birth, father figure!outsider, kid!corvo, semi-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rain1701/pseuds/Rain1701
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smallest change in the initial conditions lead to drastic changes in results.</p><p>So how would the events of Dishonored change if the Outsider noticed an anomaly that goes by the name of Corvo Attano sooner in life? When you have a father figure that is the god of the Void, an adopted mother who is brilliant with poisons and hallucinogenics, and an adopted brother who is willing to become a famous assassin marked by said father figure, it only fits that Corvo's life is no longer the same as it was before. Damn it, Outsider! Why couldn't you just handle being bored?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_The smallest change in the initial conditions lead to drastic changes in results._

* * *

The Outsider looks through the timeline and sighs in boredom. There doesn’t seem to be anyone interesting within the next century. A shame, he really is getting very bored, and a bored Void is not something anyone wants, especially those Abbey people. He turns away from the timeline, and pauses. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees an anomaly.

With a tilt of his head, the Outsider turns back to take a closer look. It looks as if this anomaly was unreadable, in both what will occur in life but also in choices made or consequences to those choices in others lives. He stares at the blank spot, and a grin slowly spans across his lips.

“Oh, how interesting..."

He reaches forward and taps the hole. He closes his eyes and raises an eyebrow as he finds his mind within a fetus about a month before birth. The Outsider thinks for a second, before sending his magic to curl around the young boy. Better to mark the interesting one before someone else gets a hold of him, after all.

* * *

Jasper Attano brushes his wife’s hair off her sweaty forehead, shushing her as she cries out in pain. “It’s going to be all right, darling, just a little more,” he says soothingly. He accepts the tight grip on his hand with grace, holding in the wince at the vice-like hold as another contraction wracks through her. The contractions began in the morning, and Jasper takes a wet washcloth to Lapis’s forehead as the afternoon heat fills the small house they could afford. He gives Lapis a shaky smile as the midwife pokes her head up.

“Baby’s crowning! One last push now!”

Jasper watches as Lapis screws her eyes shut and groans. He runs the washcloth down her throat, feeling oddly helpless as he does. The moment seems to stretch out, her muscles rippling and pushing their child out of her body. A sharp wail breaks the moment, and Jasper looks down to the midwife as she holds up their beautiful baby boy. A broad smile crosses his face, and he looks back down at his wife. “You did so well, darling,” he whispers. “You can rest now.” He gently brushes his lips against her forehead before stepping away to assist the midwife in cleaning the baby boy. He steps beside the midwife and furrows his eyebrows as she just stares at their boy. “Is everything all right?” he asks, voice low so he does not disturb Lapis.

The look the midwife gives him is not promising. “Your son has a worrisome birthmark on his left hand,” she says before passing him over. “I would be careful who you allow to see that. As far as I know, it was never there. Now, he’s going to be hungry, so give him over to his mother and I will take my leave.”

Jasper feels worry curl in his gut as he takes his son into his arms and watches as the midwife packs her things and almost runs out of the house. He looks down into his son’s hazel eyes, so much like his mother’s, and feels his heart soften as he takes in the small tuft of unruly brown hair above his brow that he must have inherited from Jasper. A perfect combination of the two of them. Then, he takes hold of the small left hand, and sucks in a breath. There, in stark contrast to naturally tan skin, was a black Outsider mark. He releases a slow, stabilizing breath, before putting it to the back of his mind. No matter what, this was his son, and he would love him no matter what deity decided to shape his destiny. Jasper carries his son to Lapis and hands him over. “What should we call him?” he asks softly, even as Lapis holds the boy to her chest.

She stares as the boy latches on and feeds, silent for a long while as she thinks. Jasper has learned through the years of marriage to let her come to her decisions at her own speed. Finally, Lapis looks at him and says, “Corvo. Our little crow.”

He settles beside Lapis and curls an arm around her shoulders. He presses his lips to the top of her head, and stares at the black mark on his son’s hand in a pensive silence. Finally, he forces himself to ask, “What will we do?”

Lapis sighs, and shifts against him. “I don’t know, love. For now, we hide him, as best we can.” Jasper meets his wife’s bright, determined hazel gaze. “I will not have our child killed if I can help it,” she says with conviction that Jasper does not feel himself. He gives a small, wiry grin.

“Of course, darling.”

* * *

It takes three weeks before Jasper knows they have no other choice but to find someone else to take Corvo. Somehow, rumor has spread that either himself or Lapis were witches who gave up their own son to the Outsider, and the only way Jasper hears this is by overhearing some of his coworkers at the factory. He doesn’t even wait until his shift is over to run back to his house, dodging shop owners and other pedestrians in his single-minded focus of getting to his wife and child.

Lapis turns sharply around, Corvo in her arms as he sleeps. She relaxes upon seeing him. “Jasper, love, what’s wrong?” she asks. Jasper shakes his head and walks to the desk. He pulls a piece of paper to him and picks up a pen. Hastily, he scrawls out a letter and folds it. He turns to face Lapis, who has a pain filled expression on her face. “There are rumors, aren’t there?” she asks.

Jasper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I heard that someone had contacted the Overseers. Our home is to be searched, and us executed for suspected heresy, witch craft, and Outsider worship.”

Lapis’s jaw sets, and she nods. “I’ll wrap Corvo in a blanket. You need to get him out of here.” She moves to the bedroom as Jasper grabs a coat from the hook next to the door. He pulls it on quickly, and tries not to think that he will not be surviving the day. Their son is more important than their lives. He turns to face Lapis as she walks back into the main room. She passes Corvo to him, and presses a last kiss to the baby’s forehead. She takes the letter and makes sure it is secured in the blanket. Finally, their eyes meet, and Jasper shifts Corvo into one arm to pull Lapis close and kiss her deeply. They part, panting, and press their foreheads together. “I shall see you on the shores of eternity,” she whispers breathlessly. Jasper nods his head, fighting back tears. “Go, I’ll make sure to give you a head start.”

He pulls away with great reluctance and, with one last glance at his beautiful wife, memorizing her features in order to gain the determination he needs, slips out of the house for the last time.

* * *

Rosella holds tightly onto Daud’s hand to keep him from wandering off. Even as far away from Karnaca as their little home is, she still worries that he will not be able to find his way back home if he runs off too far. After all, Daud is only three, and they live far too close to a swamp for her liking. She shifts her basket full of nightshade and lavender sprigs at her elbow and gazes out over the marsh that surrounds her home. It is rare in Serkonos to have as much water in the land as there is here, but Rosella is glad for it. It means she has a better chance of finding herbs for her poisons and potions.

Daud shrieks in laughter as he finally slips out of her tight grip and runs ahead. Rosella lunges for him, and misses. She shakes her head and follows her son at a sedate pace. He can’t get very far, anyways.

She finds him at a broken crate and grabs hold of him again. “All right, you little rascal. Back home with you,” she says, and begins walking away.

“Momma, why’s there a baby in the crate?”

She stops moving when Daud asks that question. She looks back to the crate, and stares at the bundle of blankets that she had not seen prior. “Daud, head back home. Take the herbs with you, and be careful,” she says quietly. He nods and takes the basket when it is handed to him. Rosella watches for a minute as he toddles in the direction of home before refocusing on the bundle.

She kneels down next to the crate and coos at the teary hazel eyes that meet hers. As small snuffles begin to come from the little one, she reaches forward and pulls him out from the crate. She cradles him close and hums a quiet tune as those small snuffles continue, and tiny hands curl into her shawl. Rosella glances down and raises an eyebrow at the note that sticks out of the blankets. She shifts him into the crook of her elbow and pulls the paper out. Unfolding it, she trails her eyes over the words hastily scrawled on the surface:

**_“My name is Corvo Attano. My parents are dead. If you can’t take care of me yourself, please take me to someone who can.”_ **

Rosella feels her heart melt at the words, and another glance at the boy tells her that she now has another son to take care of. She pockets the note and stands with ease. She strides through the marsh back to her home, the precious bundle held gently in her arms.

Now to convince Daud to accept his new baby brother. She doubts it will be very hard. After all, he is only three.

* * *

The Outsider grins from his place in the Void as the world begins to change shape in interesting ways. The loss of two souls as bright as Corvo’s parents is tragic, but in the long run this might end up being the most entertained he’s been in centuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things to clear up here: With the birthing scene, I know there’s the afterbirth to go through, and cutting the umbilical cord, and clearing out the lungs, but really, that’s just not something I wanted to write. Like, at all. The only reason I even have that scene is because it was needed to introduce Corvo having the Outsider’s mark from birth.
> 
> For those who may have noticed with Corvo’s parent’s names, you get a cookie.
> 
> Please comment! Reviews are my lifeblood!
> 
> I am feathersinthequill on tumblr! Come politely poke me if I take too long on updates~!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo doesn't think before acting, the Outsider is an elusive dick as always, and Daud shows his protective streak.

“Why haven’t the Overseer’s gone and dealt with the Witch in the marshes?”

Corvo twitches as he overhears the question. He glares at the well-dressed kid with a fake sword strapped to his belt speaking with his parents, who seem to struggle with something to say in return. “Well, they have investigated and decided that she really isn’t a Witch,” the mother says, combing her fingers through the kid’s hair.

His fingers curl into fists as the kid continues, “But everyone knows she is! Claude went out into the marshes and said he saw her performing a ritual of some kind. If the Overseer’s were doing their job, they would have gotten rid of her and her unnatural offspring already!” The kid’s parents look nauseous at the comment, and quickly quiet the kid down.

Corvo’s glare intensifies. No one speaks of his mother like that, not without retribution of some kind. Daud, if he heard this, probably would have clocked the kid for saying what he did, or maybe embarrassed him in some other manner. It’s how the elder always deals with situations such as this one. But Corvo isn’t his big brother, and so he carefully follows the family over to a table in front of this ring in the center of the square. He listens in the shadows as it is explained to the family that whatever competition they are entering is open to everyone age twelve to fourteen, and that nothing too harmful is to happen in the ring. Once they walk off, Corvo approaches the table and signs his full name in amongst those in the competition. He receives a weird look from the man behind the table, but ignores it. He did just say it is open to everyone, and he turned twelve the week prior.

He pulls at the hem of his gloves, making sure that they don’t slip. Eyeing the rest of the competitors, Corvo realizes he’s the only one without an actual weapon, along with being the smallest, and potentially youngest, in the group. He mentally shrugs. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. He’s knocked Daud on his back plenty of times, and Daud’s a lot older and bigger than all of them. He stretches carefully, knowing that he’s going to need every advantage when he’s the one without something to use to defend himself against the fake swords around him.

The preliminary rounds begin with sixteen competitors, and Corvo easily put his opponent on his back within the first minute. He glares at the kid who commented on his mother through his turn, and is silently glad when the kid wins his round. It means he has the chance to beat him in a later round. The other rounds he pays attention to how the other competitors fight, scoffing at the sloppy footwork and weak blocks and attacks they make. He might not even have to think very hard to fight them, though Corvo has to give the kid some credit in that he was better at fighting than the rest of the competitors.

Every time Corvo enters the ring, never against the kid, he trounces his opponent. He doesn’t even have to use his Void powers, which is a good thing as he eyes the Overseers stationed around the square, some with the music boxes. If he did, he might not last long enough to get away. But either way, no one really can last two minutes in a round with him in the ring, and Corvo likes that, because it’s the same with the kid, and finally it’s the last round and Corvo can’t help but grin savagely at the kid. This will be a good fight, he can tell.

Corvo pulls every trick in the book to keep out of the bigger kid’s swings and on his feet. He uses his forearms to push the fake sword out of the way by the flat of the blade, and more often than not is only a scant distance out of the way of the weapon’s hits. Their dance lasts for several minutes, Corvo slipping in whenever he can and hitting the kid hard and fast, until finally Corvo gets behind him, wraps an arm around the kid’s fat neck, and hauls him over his shoulder and onto the ground. He pins the kid there, and gets up close to his ear, before growling, “Don’t talk shit about my mother, jerk.”

The kid’s expression is priceless.

With a smug sense of triumph, Corvo stands. He jumps as all of a sudden the crowds start cheering and clapping. He whips his head around, and lands eyes on the judges table, all of whom with large grins on their faces.

Something tells him that this competition’s more important than he thought it is.

What did he just get himself into?

* * *

Corvo has never been more glad that he goes to the Void when he dreams than he is now.

He curls in on himself and pushes his face into his knees, ignoring the fact that the unfamiliar bedroom he fell asleep in has missing walls and a pale blue expanse beyond it. It is hard to even think of the events of the day after he won the competition, but it most definitely has changed Corvo’s life. Apparently, the competition had been to choose Karnaca’s champion for the right to become Lady Jessamine Kaldwin’s future Royal Protector, something that would have been nice to know before he wrote his name down, because that means leaving Serkonos and travelling the Isles. He pushes his hands through his unruly hair, and clutches tightly at it. There’s no way he can do this. He can’t go home, the nobles will never allow him to. He can’t write a letter to his mom and Daud so they know he’s all right, because he’s thought to be a street kid, an orphan.

He just needs someone to tell him what to do.

A cold hand rests on his neck, and Corvo almost sobs as its twin pries his hands from his hair. “My dear Corvo, everything will be all right,” a soothing, monotone voice says. Corvo looks up into the black eyes of the Outsider, and lunges forward to wrap his arms around the being’s neck. The scent of brine and salt fills his nose as he presses his face into the high collar of the Outsider’s leather jacket. He’s held close to the Outsider, a hand running through his hair softly as the being continues to murmur soothing words of comfort. It’s probably weird, having the god of the Void as a father figure, but he’s always been there in Corvo’s dreams so he doesn’t really think much of it.

He gives a brief hysterical laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Something infinitely fascinating.”

Corvo pushes back and slaps the Outsider’s shoulder. “Stop that, dad, you aren’t helping.” The Outsider gains a shocked and offended expression, but Corvo trudges forward. “I just- I can’t write home, I can’t leave. Mom’s going to worry. Daud’s going to kill someone. Mom might just supply him with the poison.” His hands find their way back into his hair, and he tugs at them as desperation claws at his stomach. “What am I gonna do?”

The Outsider once again pulls Corvo’s hands from his hair, and holds onto them this time. “My dear, all you can do is keep moving forward.” Corvo gives him a dirty look. “You understand the court niceties, I made sure of it, and while you prefer to not utilize your vast vocabulary while around others you still understand Serkonan, Gristol, and all of the trade languages. The nobles will more than likely believe you to be mute, unless you already spoke to them, which I doubt, so you will have a double-edged sword to work with. On one hand, they will have looser tongues around you because they believe you cannot repeat their words to others. On the other, you will not gain the respect you deserve, no matter the lengths you go to in your mortal competition.” The grin spread across the Outsider’s face made Corvo almost glad that his deity likes him so much, yet at the same time it worries him for what may happen to others. “So, as I said: you did something infinitely fascinating, and whatever road you take will continue down that path.”

Some days, Corvo wishes some other god chose him. One that did not grow bored as easily as the Outsider does. All the same, he sighs and shoves his face into the Outsider’s neck. “Still don’t know what to do about mom and Daud,” he grumbles, even as he feels the Outsider pick him up. The chuckle that vibrates through the being’s young form most certainly is not comforting, but he still sighs and relaxes against it. For someone who still looks shocked whenever Corvo calls him dad, the Outsider is really good at this fatherhood business.

* * *

Daud knows when Corvo does not show up for dinner that something is wrong. Mother is in agreement by breakfast, when she finds his bed empty and cold, still made from the day prior, with his things untouched and window locked tight.

His stomach falls to the ground as he watches Mother tear the marsh apart for Corvo, only to collapse by where they found him as an infant and break down when she cannot locate him. He swears that no matter the cost, to himself or others, he will tear the Isle’s apart to find his baby brother, if only for Mother’s sake.

No one messes with their family and gets away with it.

* * *

Corvo has not spoken a word to anyone since he won the competition, and it was grating on him. He’s fine with being silent for days on end, goodness knows him and Daud had their silent contests as children when they got angry at each other, but it feels like almost a week has passed, and these nobles are forcing him to stay in a stuffy back room of a tailors while they decide what over-embellished clothing to stuff him into. His gloves have frays at the hems from how often he has played with them over the last two days, and he might have heard one of the two nobles “prepping” him saying that the gloves are going to be thrown out, completely.

The mark on the back of his hand itches at the thought of being exposed, and Corvo forces himself to not scratch at it. Instead, he glances down to the elderly lady currently measuring his legs and bites his lip. He clears his throat, inadvertently getting her attention, and gives a sheepish smile. “Um, I was wondering if you possibly had some gloves I could look at, ma’am?” he asks in his quiet, disused voice. Her expression of surprise morphs into a bright grin at his show of manners.

“Certainly. Are there any specific styles you are interested in?” she asks, standing from her kneeling position and waving him over to a table off to one side in the room. Corvo takes a seat at the table as he shakes his head in a negative. The tailor clucks her tongue and pulls her tape measure out again. “I’ll need to measure both of your hands, and which one would you like to test them on?” Corvo raises his right hand before setting them both on the table. “Now you can keep your current gloves on if you like, it won’t affect the size much,” she says as she sits across from him and begins measuring his fingers, palm, and wrist. After a few minutes of measuring and writing down the results, she stands and moves to pull out a drawer. “We have both full fingered gloves as well as fingerless, in varying lengths from wrist to elbow. I’ll pull out some examples, and you can choose which types you like best before we move onto fabric and color choices.” He swallows tightly at the thought of having gloves that were made just for him, and at the amount of coin they probably were worth. He always just bought whatever cheap gloves happened to fit and wear them until they got too beat up, or if they got damaged on the backs and he needed to have them replaced, else the mark be shown to the world. His fingers shaking, he carefully sorts through the stack of gloves in front of him, automatically discarding the ones with open backs.

Corvo pauses at the elbow length fingerless with a padding along the forearm, and sets it in a pile separate from the discards. A similar glove winds up in the pile, identical in all but the full fingers. He then picks out a wrist length fingerless and full finger gloves to put in the ones he likes, before looking back at the tailor. She nods once, and puts the discards away. “Now, the padded gloves can only be done in leather, to better add protection against a blade. The shorter gloves, I can do in a soft fabric, seeing as it appears that you wear them on a regular basis. Is that all right?” Corvo nods his assent. “Good. Now, with the colors-“

The door to the room opens. Corvo looks over to see the Lord Aita standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face. “Woman, what is going on here?” he asks, striding into the room. “I thought we told you, he just needs measurements.”

The glare the tailor gave Lord Aita almost brought a snicker from Corvo. “The boy asked to look at the gloves. If you did not notice, my Lord, he very much prefers to keep his hands covered,” she all but snaps back. Corvo can feel the Outsider perk up in the back of his head, obviously interested in what she will do and say in defense. “Seeing as I received no orders to not listen to such a sweet boy’s requests, my Lord, I measured his hands, and you just walked in on a conversation regarding which colors he would like them to be. If you need to take him from my hands, then by all means, you are free to go. I will make the gloves in colors that will best go with what you have ordered today.”

Lord Aita gapes at the tailor like a fish out of water, making it harder for Corvo to not burst out laughing. He distantly hears the Outsider’s rumbling chuckle as he fades back into the Void. Lord Aita puffs up like a fish and says, “The entire order needs to be completed by tomorrow morning. If that is all, we need to be going.”

The tailor waves a hand in Lord Aita’s direction as she turns back and pushes the elbow length fingerless glove set to Corvo. “This will come out of my pocket, they’re your measurements and one can never go wrong with simple black leather.” She smiles and winks at Corvo, who blushes slightly at her. “It’s not everyday that a charmer such as yourself enters my shop, young man. Don’t you ever change.”

Corvo nods as he picks the gloves up off the table and stands. He rushes to follow Lord Aita as he stalks out of the tailors. He’ll make sure he’s alone when he puts the new gloves on. Not going to take the chance that one of the Lords will see the Mark and report it. Lord Aita’s talking with the Lord Narre over Corvo’s head, but he’s not listening to them. Instead, he brushes his fingers over the soft, supple black leather, and wishes he could go home.

* * *

Daud finally reaches Karnaca during the afternoon, three days after Corvo went missing. Mother is still trying to keep everything together, but Daud did not like the thought of leaving her in such a state, and there are also Mother’s overprotective instincts to keep in mind. He shifts the bag of food on his shoulder and glares at the street rats staring hungrily at it.

He comes to a stop outside a fairly well kept manor in the upper sections of Karnaca and glares at its façade. From those he spoke with, a young boy with dark brown hair and gloves constantly on his hands had been seen wandering the house and staring out windows the past two days. Why a Lord would kidnap Corvo is the one thought that Daud attempts to keep from his mind. Lord’s are weird, and if they think that Daud’s just going to let them keep his baby brother for whatever reason they took him in the first place, they have another thing coming for them.

Sneaking into the manor is easy; the servant’s entrance isn’t even locked. Daud shakes his head at the idiocy of the upper class before he moves silently down the halls, hoping to run across someone who could tell him where Corvo is.

Daud presses himself into a darkened corner as a servant walks down the hall towards him. He stays still as the servant gets closer, until he’s looking at the servant’s back and can lunge at him and pin him safely to a wall.

The servant freezes for a second, long enough for Daud to grab hold of his wrists and pin them with one hand. “Oh Void, please don’t kill me,” the servant whispers, tremors running through the smaller form.

Daud puts his mouth next to the servant’s ear and growls, “Where’s the boy?”

The servant jerks, as if that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. Daud can clearly see the confusion in his eyes and privately wonders if he needs to spell things out to the poor sod. “Who?”

“Brunette hair, always wearing gloves, probably looked like he had five pounds of dirt on him when he first came here.” Daud tightens his hold on the wrists and snarls, “Where is he?”

Daud watches as the servant’s eyes flutter close, the throat bobbing with a swallow. “The Master brought him here three days ago, said he won a competition. They left Karnaca this morning.”

“What competition?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t ask!”

Daud wants to punch something. Instead, he asks, “Where did they leave to?” Where did they take Corvo? is what he wants to ask, but reigns the question in. He needs to keep a tight hold on his anger here.

“T-Tyvia. The Master said they were setting sail for Tyvia.”

He forces himself to take deep, even breaths, before putting the servant in a chokehold. Daud stares as the limp form slumps against the floor, snoring lightly. Tyvia. Corvo’s been taken to Tyvia.

How was he going to tell Mother that?

* * *

Rosella watches from the window, searching for the shape of her eldest son to appear. Worry grips her heart tight, and all she can think is, ‘You black-eyed bastard had better keep my baby safe, or not even the Void will protect you.’ Dark brown eyes catch the sight of movement, and she slumps against the window frame.

Daud’s shoulders are lower than when he left, and as Rosella scans the area around him, she understands why. He must not have found Corvo. Or if he did...

She rushes out of the front door, and comes to a halt as Daud trudges closer. When she is able to see his face, the downtrodden eyes and vacant look, she prepares for the worst. Which is why she starts when Daud meets her eyes and chokes out, “Tyvia. They took him to Tyvia.”

Rosella takes a tentative step forwards, and the next she knows Daud is clinging to her, sobbing into her shoulder. She sighs and wraps her arms around his quaking shoulders. At a loss, she runs her fingers through his hair and lets him cry. Finally, when his sobs begin to lessen, she says, “I will figure out how to send you after him. Come, let’s get dinner and some rest into you.” Daud nods quietly, shuffling into the house while rubbing his cheeks clear of tear tracks. Rosella watches him, already thinking of the various poisons she could supply him with to utilize against the ones who took their little Crow.

* * *

Corvo takes a deep breath of sea air in, and tries to not think of the cold rain that feels as if it is slicing through his skin. He curls closer in on himself, tucking his forehead against his knees as the storm rages around him from where he sits on the lookout’s nest. He’s been up here for hours, almost since he could slip away from Lord Aita down in the hull this morning. His tan skin has kept him from burning from the mid-day sun, but the storm set in early in the afternoon. The boat rocks with each harsh wave, and Corvo closes his eyes and imagines he’s back in Mother’s arms after a nightmare.

He’s long since been soaked to the bone, and doesn’t even care that he could get sick. If it gets him out of being paraded around the Isle’s, he’ll get sick as often as he can.

Sighing, he lifts his head and stares out at the ocean. He doesn’t know the distance they’ve traveled, but he knows that back on Serkonos, Mother and Daud are losing their minds from worry. He almost wishes that he could say no one would die in their mad scramble to try and find him, but there is a reason Mother is such a skilled maker of poisons and hallucinogens. And Daud is more than capable of killing if he deems there to be a good enough cause, no matter his age and lack of experience. Their small, tight-knit family is more than enough to push his brother to that. On top of that, there is the fact that the entire family is in the good graces of the Outsider. It might take a while, but eventually Corvo will be found and brought back home.

Until then, he has to play the Lords’ games.

He sighs as he stands. The climb down is actually no worse than the climb up, and soon he’s ducking past the sailors and back into the hull. Corvo sticks to the shadows in the hopes of not being caught by Aita or Narre. Luckily, he gets to his room without running into them. He closes the door and stands there, dripping water onto the wood floor, and stares intently at the grain on the door. He takes calm, steady breaths, trying to ignore the manic itching coming from the Mark, the fact that he hasn’t had a single moment to himself in four days until he snuck up the lookout perch, and that Aita and Narre don’t actually care about him. To them, he’s someone they are obligated to look after, because otherwise their chances of a Serkonan in the position of Lord Protector go to pieces.

He shakes his head, water droplets flying everywhere from his chin-length hair, and pushes away from the door. He walks to the chest where his clothes were, peeling off his sodden shirt as he goes. It lands on the floor with a wet plop, the trousers following shortly after. He pulls a pair of soft fingerless gloves from his trunk before quickly changing out his current ones with them. He then grabs a pair of trousers and pulls them on, grimacing as he can feel how high quality the fabric is. All this useless spending of coin is making him nauseous. If this is what he has to look forwards to, he most definitely is getting sick as often as he can.

Corvo doesn’t bother drying his hair, just pulls on a long sleeve shirt and sits down on his bed, his back against the wall. He lifts his left hand and stares at it, right where the Outsider’s Mark has always been on his skin. With a quick glance to the door, he presses his lips to it, and closes his eyes. “Keep them safe,” he whispers against the back of his hand.

* * *

Rosella sits in front of the tiny Outsider shrine they kept in a corner of the main room, her head lowered as she keeps her eyes closed. She has to come to terms with the fact that she is sending her eldest out to find her youngest, and that the consequences will be reflected in the number of corpses left in his wake. She knows that Daud is resourceful, both of her children are, and neither would be afraid of utilizing poison if they felt that it was the only way out of a situation. That being said, they are still children, and should not be forced into such a situation at this point in their lives. Which is why she is determined to help Daud in any way she can, including going back to old habits.

Sitting on the shrine before her is a small bone charm she had painstakingly made the night before. She did not need to be blessed by the Outsider to know that he had already imbued the charm with his powers, far quicker than she remembered any of her own mother’s charms being blessed. While she herself might not be a Witch, she is more than willing to become one for her baby boy.

She opens her eyes and looks over to where Daud stands in the doorway to the main room. He looks uneasy, probably understanding just how far Rosella is willing to go and wishing she did not have to. She stands and walks over to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I will ensure that you bring him back through whatever means necessary,” she whispers as he returns the hug. “The Outsider likes us, and, Void willing, will ensure that I do not lose myself to madness.”

He sighs and pulls back, staring at her. “I know, mother. I just... wish that it did not need to come to this,” he says, his voice rough, probably from the sleepless night that had plagued him.

She nods and maneuvers him towards the table, where a packed rucksack sits atop its surface. “Durable clothes with vials of poison wrapped in them, enough coin to barter your way onto a ship headed for Tyvia, and various knives have all been packed here,” she says, watching as he sorts through the rucksack. Rosella steps away and back to the shrine, gently picking up the charm that is now pulsing with power. She handles it with care, and attaches it to the belt that was wrapped around Daud’s waist. “Bring him home,” she adds, raising her hands to cup his cheeks. She presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, and steps back as he nods.

She presses her hand to her throat as she watches him walk away from the cottage again, rucksack thrown over his shoulder. Her breathing stutters, and she closes suddenly wet eyes.

“You had better keep them both safe, you black-eyed bastard,” she whispers in the quiet that surrounds her. “Otherwise, not even the Void will protect you from a mother’s wrath.”

The Outsider tilts his head from where he floats above the shrine, unseen by Rosella. A smirk graces his features before he disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! From here on out, expect something close to this length from the chapters. So, what do you think of what Corvo’s gotten himself into this time? Yes, I am throwing away the majority of canon (that happened once Corvo was adopted by Daud’s mom, let’s be real here) and making the spot for Royal Protector a competition instead of having Corvo gifted to Jessamine after getting into the Grand Serkonan Guard. Let’s just say that the Outsider marking Corvo before he was even born fucked with the timeline.
> 
> Next Chapter: Daud’s marking, and the first steps in the competition!
> 
> Please comment! Reviews are my lifeblood!
> 
> I’m feathersinthequill on tumblr! Come politely poke me if I take too long on updates~!


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